Good Morning Sunshine
by Scribbler
Summary: While most people go to the ocean to forget their troubles and what they've lost, she goes to remember. Post-canon. Tragedy. Anzu/Yuugi.


**Disclaimer****:** Wretchedly not mine.

**A/N****: **Originally written for 'Challenge #003 – Love' over at YGO Drabble on LiveJournal (community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) ygodrabble), although this is the extended, non-drabble version. Regardless of that , YGO Drabble is the first community I've ever moderated and everybody who has participated in these challenges so far is lovely, so a big THANK YOU to them. Come and join the party too! We're low pressure, it's lots of fun, and I have solemn promises from everyone not to bite (too hard).

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_**Good Morning Sunshine**_

© Scribbler, June 2010.

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Staring at the ocean, she'd found, was a good way to remind yourself you're not the centre of the universe. You just had to consider the ebb and flow of the tide, or the billions and billions of organisms going on with their lives in just Domino Bay, to get all philosophical, and it's difficult to be philosophical and depressed about your own problems at the same time.

She had slept in later than usual today, but because she ran she was just in time. The sun was rising, as if out of the sea itself, and the air was still crisp and chill but not as cold as it had been during the night. She'd wrapped up warm, learning from past mistakes, which had also taught her the best place to sit for a good view without a numb butt.

She was tired; the kind that comes from deep inside where sleep can't touch. She watched, cross-legged on her bench. The slats dug into her thighs. Nonetheless, she pasted on a smile. "Good morning, sunshine. Looks like it's going to be another lovely day. There's a jumble sale at the elementary school this afternoon. Remember, I told you about it last week? Of course you remember. You always remember the little things. Well, I was going to see if I could find any bargains. You can sometimes find quirky stuff in places like –"

"Anzu?"

She whirled. Nobody ever came here this early. Embarrassment and alarm turned her voice squeaky when she saw who is was. Of all the benches in all the world – yadda-yadda-yadda. "Jounouchi! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." He looked as exhausted as she felt. He had looked exhausted since they finished high school and he decided that, instead of doing something with his own lacklustre grades, he was going to do any work he could lay his hands on and earn enough money to put Shizuka through medical school. The skin beneath his eyes had been purplish-black since then. "I just got off my shift. I was pulling extra time this week. But … Anzu, it's bumblefuck in the morning and you're sitting on a park-bench, talking to yourself like some crazy bag lady."

"Not true. I have no bags and this isn't a park."

"That's even crazier." He sat heavily beside her, asking belatedly, "Mind if I take a load off?"

"Be my guest." She huddled deeper into her collar, radiating _just go away_ vibes.

They didn't speak for a while. Waves hit the wall below the observation bar. The air was salty. Gulls cried. She refused to meet his eye, not out of embarrassment, but because this was meant to be a private ritual and he had, however unknowingly, spoiled it. Her day was bound to be awful now. If she didn't start right, like this, her days were always awful – just like they were always awful with guilt when she rushed out on some mornings and didn't stop for their ritual morning conversation. She hadn't stopped that day. He wasn't able to talk later, and she'd always regretted it.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" The question snapped her from her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You're messing with your ring." Jounouchi nodded at her finger. She was indeed wiggling the gold band up and down. Just the one, though. Always just one. "It's a real giveaway."

"Oh."

"You've never taken it off, have you?"

She dropped both hands to her sides. They sat uselessly, like dead fish fallen from their nets.

"Anzu," Jounouchi said, softer than she would have suspected of him, "how long have you been doing this?"

"What?"

"Coming here at the crack of dawn to … what, talk to yourself? Talk to _him_?"

Her face nearly vanished inside her coat.

"A week? A month? Six months?" Jounouchi persisted. "Since the beginning?"

"Hmmf."

"Oh, Anzu…"

"Don't 'Oh Anzu' me. That's not allowed. I'm the strong one, remember? Everyone always said how strong I was. They kept telling me, all through the hospital visits, and again afterwards. Resilient, that's me. Good old Anzu, she keeps going no matter what happens to her. Psychotic bikers steal her friends' souls? No problem. Captured by Rare Hunters? Pshaw! Threatened with falling crates? Not a scratch. Transported into the past to fight evil demons? Nothing keeps her down. Didn't get into dance school? Oh well. Fiancé –" She stopped. How was it she could talk about the weirdest stuff without welling up, but not the crushingly ordinary tragedies? She thought about the rejection letters and shoving open the front door with a shouted goodbye, not even a peck on the cheek, because she was late and didn't want to go all the way back upstairs.

She should have gone back upstairs. She should have done a lot of stuff.

Jounouchi put his arm around her. She resisted, but when he pulled her close she burrowed against him as if for warmth.

"You don't gotta be strong _all_ the time," he said roughly.

She hesitated, and then whispered, "Since the funeral." That was nearly a year ago. Almost twelve months of early mornings and running down to the harbour. She was in great shape with the daily long walk from their – her – apartment.

"Why here?"

"This is where he set Yami and me up on a date once. It was our private joke."

"I don't get it."

"You're not meant to." She drew a shuddery breath. "Punchlines are subjective. Not everybody understands them. Like why Yuugi could save the world but not have enough good karma to save himself from a congenital heart defect. Or why I could wait by his bedside for three whole weeks without him waking up., and then he goes and dies while I'm in the bathroom." She sniffed. "The _bathroom, _Jounouchi. One big cosmic joke, that's us." She hid her face. "I still miss him. So much."

"I know. I miss him too." He awkwardly, added, "Not in the same way as you obviously, because that'd be wrong and I'm not, like, confessing to any kind of secret gay affair or nuthin' and … uh …" He trailed off, pure essence of Jounouchi, bottled and spritzed into the morning air. "Crap. I get it, is all."

"It hurts. Every day. So I come here, and it helps. We used to talk, every morning. I could tell when something was bugging him and he could tell when I was worried, and we'd talk about it."

"Scarily mature," Jounouchi remarked. "My folks were twice your age and they never talked about nuthin'. Shows you two had the right stuff."

"I used to joke about therapists and pillows and … well, I guess you had to be there. I still talk to him, only now," she paused, "he doesn't talk back so much." She said nothing for a minute. And then another. When the third was drawing to a close said whispered, "I should have walked down the aisle with him. It took him long enough to ask me. It took _me_ long enough to realise how I felt. All that wasted _time_."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not fair. We didn't get enough time."

"Nope."

She paused. "Jounouchi?"

"Yeah?"

"…Thanks."

He squeezed her. Suddenly she didn't care that she'd been found out. "No problem. It's what friends do, right?"

She fiddled with her engagement ring. "Right."

"You know … I pass this way to and from work, like, every day. And I'm on a six month contract to work the night shift." The offer was implicit.

A large lump rose in her throat. "How are you fixed for breakfast? I know a great place that does an entire platter for a cheap price. My treat."

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_**Fin.**_

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**A/N: **Feedback appreciated!


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